


Tenebrous

by OrmondSacker



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Disability, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Faith, M/M, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: In the Imperial attack that exiled the Guardians from the Kyber Temple Chirrut lost both his home and his sight. Now he struggles with the darkness of his world in more than one way.When Baze Malbus left Jedha ten years before he had never expected to return, but he'd not let the Empire take his home without a fight. After the fight and with few other places to go, he find himself feeling oddly responsible for the blind monk whom he rescued.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tenebrous: Shut off from the light, hard to understand, causing gloom.

His world is black. Though he can hear birds chirping outside, so it must be daytime, his world is black. 

But then it has been since he woke in this place, a place that is not the Khyber Temple, that is nowhere near NiJedha. Those too are lost to him, as is the light. 

The teachings of the Guardians have always differed from those of the Jedi, they do not emphasize the battle between the Light and the Dark, nor do they view emotions and relationships as a danger. But still been warned not to give into despair, that way lies only lethargy, despondence and deafness to the Force. 

Chirrut knows these warnings, he has lived with them for over half his life now and has always heeded them. Till now. Trapped in the dark he finds despair close at hand and the voice of the Force barely a distant echo. Perhaps it isn't there at all, perhaps it never was. 

He doesn’t even fully know what his room in this place looks like. There must be a window, or he couldn't hear the birds, a bed, because he's lying on one. He also knows there's a chair a bit off to the side, which his clothes are tossed over and he believes a table somewhere, though he's not clear where, though the room is quite small. That's last thing he knows, even though he's only been on his feet for a couple of days, he's run into those walls more times than he can count. 

He sighs and considers whether or not to get off the bed. Is it worth the effort? In the temple he had duties, a schedule, studies, a city outside to visit. Here, in this mountain hiding place, what does he have? What does any of them have anymore? 

Sunlight is creeping onto his face, or so he supposes from the feel of localized heat slowly crawling over his skin. 

He throws one arm over his eyes to protect them, then chuckles bitterly. No need for that anymore, no need for that ever again. 

There has been footsteps passing his door several times, but now a heavy tread stops outside and is immediately followed by an insistent knock. 

Churrit says nothing, lying perfectly still. If he doesn't respond perhaps the person will believe he's asleep and go away. 

The knock comes again, louder this time. Then a third, very loud when Chirrut still remains silent. 

"Unless you've gone deaf as well as blind I know you heard me," a deep unfamiliar male voice says. 

The straightforward manner in which the person addresses his disability makes Chirrut sit up. None of the other Guardians have spoken so openly and directly about it. He isn't sure if it's shame, pity, or something else, but all treats it as if it will go away on its own if unaddressed. Or maybe they think him fragile now. 

"Perhaps I have no wish for company," Chirrut snaps in reply. As much as he likes the casual approach of the voice's owner to his blindness, the impudence of his manners irks him. 

"Then tell me to go away." 

He almost does. The word "Leave" lurching on the tip of his tongue, warring with curiosity. That was always his greatest weakness, being curious, and this stranger with his deep voice and brazen manners have made it stir again.  

It wins, it always does. 

"Given your complete lack of manners I doubt it would matter. You may as well simply barge in." 

He hears the door creak and the heavy boots step inside. 

"Since you have so low opinion of my manners, I see no reason to disappoint you."  

There's amusement in the man's voice and something else too, something Chirrut's ears cannot pinpoint and makes him long to see the expression on the man's face. The longing is like a pang in his chest that instantly darkens his mood once more. 

"Very well," Chirrut snaps. "Now that you're here, what do you want?" 

For a moment there's silence and a soft jangling or clanging noise from the man. Is he wearing or carrying something made of metal? 

"When did you last eat?" the man asks. 

"Why do you care? Who are you?" Chirrut asks, rising off the bed, testiness in his voice. The man is a stranger to him, why would he care? 

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours." 

Chirrut huffs. Very well, it seems a small price for information he desperately wants. 

"Sometime yesterday. I don't recall." 

"Baze Malbus." 

Chirrut gapes. 

Baze Malbus!  

There is not a single person among the Guardians who doesn't know that name, or his story. 

When Chirrut had entered the Guardians in his late teens Baze had already been there for years. Not only their most devout student, he was also one of their most gifted. The teachers praised him and the other students either openly admired him, or resented him for the impossible standard he set.  

None of it had touched him though, the young man always remaining humble to all. 

Chirrut had been torn between admiration and envy. Most of the time admiration won out and it had left him feeling unaccountably shy around the man, so he had never dared approach him. Not that they had much in common, Baze was years ahead of him in study and passed his test to become a true Guardian the year after Chirrut entered the temple, putting him even further out of Chirrut's reach. 

So Chirrut had focused on his studies, hoping that one day when he too had passed his tests, they could talk. 

He never got the chance. 

The galaxy changed, became darker and filled with conflict. And something happened with Baze as well, he was seen arguing with the First Circle of Elders in public, something no Guardian ever did. What the arguments were about depended on who you asked, the Elders themselves said nothing. He became withdrawn, even from his friends. 

And then he was gone. 

Rumors flew in the temple as to what exactly had happened. The official story was that Baze had decided to leave Jedha which while not common was not unheard of, they were guardians, not prisoners after all. But rumors were told about Baze having yet another loud and dragged out argument with the Elders, only it had not been a true argument, he had lectured them. Then he had packed and left. 

His legacy remained at the Temple, he was the standard to which all students held themselves, but the man was never seen nor heard of on Jedha again. Till now. 

"Why?" Chirru asks. "Why have you come back? Why did you leave?" 

Chirrut can hear Baze turn away and walk towards the door. 

"I will bring you some food. If you eat, I might answer your questions." 

He's out the door before Chirrut can utter another word. 


	2. Chapter 2

As he heads towards the kitchen Baze loses himself in thought, the last question Imwe asked him provoking his thoughts. 

Why _is_ he here? 

He came to Jedha because he knew the Empire would and he wouldn't let them take his home without a fight, he ended up among the Guardians again by chance – the others would say the Force, but Baze stopped believe that ten years ago – but why is he _still_ here. 

He can leave. He just returned from a trip to NiJedha for supplies, but he returned though he didn't have to. 

Oddly and uncomfortably he decides that Chirrut is probably the answer. He needed to know how the man was before he could leave felt responsible for him in a certain way. 

He remembers Chirrut, injured and half blinded by the gas the Empire used to disperse the crowds, frantically trying to get a small girl to safety away from the fleeing masses made up of monks, pilgrims and locals fleeing from the assault.  

Baze still don't know why he stopped shooting at the Imperial troops and went to pull him and the child away. Maybe it was the man's tenacity, though he could barely stand he kept going. 

Baze had hovered in Chirrut's orbit ever since and though his condition when Baze had left for NiJedha had still been bad he had been improving, so Baze had taken the chance to get away for a bit. 

But he had still come back. 

This was no reason he could give the other man though. He barely wanted to admit it to himself, much less anyone else. Nor was it a reason he thought Imwe would like to hear. 

Awake and uninjured the man seems prickly, even proud, he wouldn't appreciate any reason that smelled of pity. 

He had only meant to drop in and see how he was doing, blindness aside. The disheveled state of the man, combined with a pained expression in his unseeing eyes had moved a part of Baze that he didn't think existed anymore. 

The man needed help, even though he probably didn't want it and Baze doubts anyone else here can offer it. Even with all that has just happened they are not used to dealing with doubts and questions, not of the kind he saw in Chirrut's eyes.  

He knows the look well, ten years ago he saw it in his own eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

When Baze returns Chirrut have dressed. It feels undignified to stand around in his nightclothes and the room is chill. 

He has finally bothered to locate the table, dragged the chair over and is sitting on it, feeling somewhat silly and awkward, when Baze tramps back in. 

Chirrut can hear the clatter of metal against both wood and clay. He must be carrying a tray. 

"There is lentil soup." 

The bitter and sweet scent of the lentils finds Chirrut's nose and the smell makes his stomach growl, though he still feels no real appetite. He has a sneaky suspicion that if he doesn't eat, Baze may try to feed him and though he's tempted to test the man's dedication he'd rather not suffer the indignity. 

Probing carefully with his fingers he finds the spoon next to the bowl and starts eating. 

"What do you look like?" he asks between mouthfuls. 

"Sorry?" 

He has spent the time after Baze left organizing his questions. He won't be starting with personal ones, things like 'why he have returned' might be too private for Baze to share with a stranger.  

Or maybe not, but given his lack of reply the first time Chirrut thinks it best to start out on a more casual, getting to know each other, note. 

"What do you look like?" Chirrut repeats. "I know what you looked like when you left, but that was years ago. I want to know what you look like. Right now I am talking to a disembodied voice, it is very disconcerting. I could be talking to a ghost for all I can tell." 

"There are no ghosts." 

"Hmm, wouldn't a ghost _say_ that?" 

He hears Baze snort softly. 

"You're not giving up easily are you?" 

"You said that if I ate you'd answer my questions." 

"I said I _might_ answer them." 

Chirrut puts down his spoon and turns towards Baze. The man's hesitancy to answer even such a simple question puzzles him. 

"Why wouldn't you want me to know what you look like? Is this fair to a blind man, leaving him in the dark like this?" 

He knows that any of the other Guardians would have expressed distaste or horror for such a joke, would find it inappropriate to joke about such matters. But to Chirrut humor was always both emotional defense and coping mechanism.  

Baze snorts again, this time his amusement clear. 

It makes Chirrut smile, the first that has touched his lips since he woke. 

"Perhaps you _are_ a ghost? You have no physical form and therefore cannot tell me what you look like. Have the ghost of Baze Malbus returned to haunt me? No one will believe me if I tell them." 

This time there's an hearty, amused chuckle from Baze. 

"Okay then," Chirrut continues with a shrug, changing tactic and question. "If you won't tell me what you look like, tell me what my eyes look like. No one wants to tell me that." 

"Your eyes?" Baze says as Chirrut hears him approach. He feels a hand take hold of his chin and lift it. The fingers are broad, and rough and calloused from use, strong, but their grip is very gentle. 

"They're milky. There's film across them and the irises look milky blue." 

So, that's what he look like now. 

"Was it the gas the Imperials used to disperse the crowds? You must have caught it right in the eyes for it to do so much damage." 

"I don't remember." 

Chirrut pulls his chin out of Baze's grip, his mood suddenly spoiled.  

It isn't a lie, he doesn't. He remembers the morning prayer and thinks he might recall the sound of incoming shuttle engines, whining outside in the temple courtyard. After that his memory is blank, there are a few bits and pieces that might be memories, or maybe they're nightmares. He doesn't know.  

Maybe he doesn't want to know. 

He picks up his spoon and begins to eat again, just to occupy himself. He has more questions for Baze lined up, but he has lost all desire to ask them. He can feel Baze remain standing close to him, the soft metallic sound of whatever it is he's wearing, interrupting the silence in the room intermittently as Baze breathes. 

"My hair is long," Baze suddenly says. "Hanging loose past my shoulders. I have a short full beard." He stops for a second and when he goes on his voice sounds hesitant and stumbling. "I'm broader around the waist than I was and my face have begun to show lines." 

Chirrut tilts his head, in curiosity. He knows he and Baze are almost the same age, if Baze is already beginning to show signs of aging then he must have led a hard life indeed. 

"I wear armor above a bodysuit." 

So that is what the metal is, but why? 

"Armor? Here? Do you expect an attack?" 

Another clanging sound, a shrug? 

"Habit I think. I always wear it outside my rooms these days, you never know. 

Before Chirrut can press any further questions, Baze continues, "You could do with a bath too," as he sniffs the air. 

Baze might simply mean to distract him from asking any further questions, but even knowing that Chirrut can't help his temper flaring 

"Do you intend to play nurse maid to me," Chirrut snaps. 

"You look like a man who could do with one," Baze calmly returns, sounding unfazed by Chirrut's anger.   

"Finish your meal and I'll take you down to the hot pools." Baze's voice is mild, but there's firmness in it too, the kind Chirrut remembers the monks having in his novice days, one that says that he'll be treated kindly but no one would put up with any nonsense from him. 

With an exaggerated sigh Chirrut goes back to eating. 

 

oOoOo 

 

Baze remains silent as Chirrut finishes, spendng the time studying him. 

While Chirrut had been joking his face had been very animate, lively and handsome, but now it is clouded again though he is no less handsome. 

Baze isn't surprised that Chirrut can't remember anything of the Empire's attack, for a civilian something that traumatic would be repressed as the brain's means of coping. Perhaps some day memories will return, or maybe it'll be locked away in nightmares. 

And not just civilians. He has his own share of blank space from battlefields too. He's glad of them, he wouldn't want to remember what happened any of those times anyway. 

Chirrut dropping his spoon into the now empty bowl makes Baze jump, lost as he was in memory. The other man looks up at him with his milky blue eyes, an expectant expression on his face. 

"Take my arm," Baze says. "I'll escort you down to the pools." 

 

The have barely made it four meters down the corridor before Chirrut abruptly comes to a halt, nearly making Baze stumble. 

"Is there a gymnasium here?" Chirrut asks. "I know this place has been used for many things by the Guardians through the centuries, most recently it was a training retreat. So there should be. Or a sparring room of some sort." 

When Baze doesn't immediately answer he presses. 

"Is there?" 

There is again that light on his face that was there when he was joking, some of the same animation of his features. Baze decides that whatever has just occurred to the man, putting up with it will be a small price to pay for keeping that look on it. 

"There is, in the northwest tower." 

"Take me there." 

Chirrut's tone makes his words a command not a request and Baze almost balks. He allows no one outside commanding officers speak to him in that tone. But the pained expression is also there, underlying the animation so Baze decides to keep his peace. 

 

The gymnasium is at the top of the tower. The skylights in the roof lets the bright afternoon sunlight the room with its pale, golden glow. 

"We're here," Baze announces as they walk in, to let Chirrut know they've reached their destination. The man have remained silent as they walked, apparently lost in thought. 

"Where is the weapons' rack?" Chirrut asks, his voice terse. 

"Why?" 

"I need a staff." 

"You want to spar? Now?" 

The look Chirrut gives him is exasperated and annoyed, as if Baze is somehow incredibly slow. 

"Tell me, have no other planets cities with blind beggars in them? Is NiJedha the only place where such things occur and have you been gone so long that you cannot envision what other uses a blind man may have for a staff?" 

Suddenly Baze is grateful for Chirrut's blindness so he can't see the abashed look on his face or the blush spreading across it, though feeling that way makes him feel ashamed. 

"My room is small, but I cannot stay there forever," Chirrut continues, seemingly oblivious to Baze's discomfort. "And even then, I'm tired of tripping over things and walking into walls." 

"They're over here," Baze replies. 

He guides Chirrut to the wall where the sparring staff's are all neatly placed in their racks. 

Hesitantly Chirrut reaches out. His hand finds the rack and he takes one of the simple wooden staffs. 

He grips it like an expert, for a moment holding it not as a tool, but as a weapon. Then with a heavy sigh he shifts his grip and its tip drops to the floor the way Baze have often seen blind people using it to probe the ground before them. 

"I miss my own," Chirrut mutters to himself. "Though I miss my lightbow more." 

"You build a lightbow?" The question is out of Baze's mouth before he can think. 

Chirrut looks up at him, a glimmer of mischief on his face. 

"Does that surprise you?" 

"A little," Baze confess. 

A lightbow is the weapon of those Guardians who have completed their seventh duan and achieved physical perfection. Chirrut hides more beneath that voluminous robe than Baze suspected. 

"You're very young," he adds sheepishly. 

But the moment is gone, Chirrut's face is closed off again and he simply shrugs. 

Baze nods silently, letting it go. 

"Come," he says. "Let's get you that bath." 


	4. Chapter 4

It is a long walk from the tower to the pools as they are at the very lowest level of the monastery, two levels below the surface, buried deep into the mountain out of which the place it half carved, half built. 

They are both silent for the entire walk, the only sounds are their footsteps and the tap of Chirrut's staff as taps it across the ground. 

Baze can see the chagrin on Chirrut's face at his inexpert use of it, though the other man hides it well. 

The air at the pools is humid and hangs heavily with the smell of minerals. The room for changing is large and open, with the benches placed along the sides. 

"There's a bench along the wall, just to the right of you," he tells Chirrut. 

He leaves Chirrut to undress and goes to the small cupboard by the door to the pools themselves that contains bathing supplies. Getting out soap and a scrub he turns to see an halfnaked naked Chirrut and suddenly that lightbow makes a lot more sense. 

His shoulder's are broad and he's far more powerfully built than Baze had thought he would be, the hard corded muscles of his arms flexing beneath the skin as he removes his undershirt and folds it neatly before putting it on the bench on top of his robe. Wobbly though Chirrut is due to his lack of vision, his movements are still graceful and precise, expending no more energy than strictly necessary. 

Physical perfection indeed. 

Baze can feel a blush creep into his face, his heart picking up its rate, and again he finds himself grateful that Chirrut cannot see him. It has been a long time since the sight of any man has affected him this forcefully, but then it's been a long time since he's seen a man as stunning as Chirrut. 

The other man sits down on the bench to remove his boots, then shimmies out of his pants leaving him fully naked and all Baze can do is stare. Adroitly getting back to his feet, Chirrut grabs his staff that he has had leaned against the wall and begins to make his way across the room. He walks slowly through the unfamiliar location, but his movements are no less smooth and controlled for their hesitance. 

Baze can't imagine what it must be like, to achieve such total control of yourself, know your environment so well, and then suddenly have no idea where you are where everything else is in relation to you. 

The sharpness in Chirrut's voice, the darkness on his face, suddenly they make sense. 

Something rises in Baze's chest, something it's been so long since he felt that he's forgotten its name. It's both fragile and warm, and it makes him want to reach out and hold the other man. 

Chirrut stops and tilts his head, clearly listening for something. 

"Over here," Baze calls. 

Chirrut adjusts his course. 

"Very well, you now have me naked," Chirrut says when he comes to a halt less than a meter from Baze. "What do you plan to do with me next?" 

Baze has no idea if Chirrut had meant it as suggestively as in sounds, but suddenly Baze's mind is filled with the picture of a wet and naked Chirrut. He swallows loudly. 

Chirrut tilts his head again, reaching out one hand and finds Baze's wrist. The fingers are strong as they close around the wrist, the skin calloused from weapon's use. 

"Are you alright?" Chirrut asks. "Your pulse is racing." 

Baze yanks his arm out of Chirrut's grip. 

_Can he really tell that just from a light touch?_  

"I'm fine," he growls. 

Chirrut simply shrugs, a graceful twitch of his shoulders. 

"Where do you want me then?" he continues unfazed by Baze's gruffness. 

Baze tries to gather himself. 

"In the pool. Door's straight ahead, three steps to your left," he mumbled. 

With one puzzled look at him Chirrut sets off in the direction give by Baze. 

 

oOoOo 

 

The hot, humid air in the pools brings back almost painfully vivid memories of the Kyber Temple's bathing area to Chirrut. Though those had not been a collection of natural hot springs being fed into a set of pools but rather an ordinary technological convenience, the smell had been similar. Warm, damp and rich in minerals. But something was lacking to his senses, sounds. The splashing of water, movement and voices of others, all these should be here, but they are absent and their lack leaves him chilled. 

"Be careful," Baze calls out behind him, distracting him from his dark thoughts. "The pool is almost right in front of you." 

Chirrut slows down and true enough, two small steps further he can find only emptiness with his staff. 

He crouches down at the edge, placing the staff alongside it, swings his legs over and slides into the water. It's warm, almost uncomfortably so, or maybe he has just got used to the chill. 

"And now?" He asks over his shoulder in the general direction he expects Malbus to be in. 

"Now you wash yourself. You didn't like the idea of me playing nurse and you're blind, not helpless." The man's voice isn't just gruff now, it sounds almost hostile. 

Chirrut almost jumps out of his skin when Baze grabs hold of his arm, sliding his hand down to his wrist so he can guide his hand. 

"Here's the soap," Baze continues as he guides Chirrut's hand to where he has placed the soap on the edge of the pool. "And here's the scrub," he continues, moving Chirrut's hand a little to the side. Chirrut can feel the ridgid hairs of the brush beneath his fingertips as he curls his hand around it. 

"It'll return for you later," Baze finishes and Chirrut can hear him get up followed by the sound of heavy boots storming off. Before he can call out after him, Baze is gone. 

Chirrut has never before understood how silence can be deafening, it always seemed an oxymoron to him, but now with Baze gone that is how the silence in the pool feels, as if it is stealing his sense of hearing. 

Feeling dizzy and off balance Chirrut feels his heart start racing, his mouth filling with the taste of metal and for a moment it feels like he can't breathe. The sound of the scrubbing brush hitting the stone of the floor as it drops from his numb fingers startles him, but he also finds odd comfort in the noise. He's only blind, not deaf. 

Only. 

Despite the warm water Chirrut begins to tremble. 

Until this moment he has not contemplated any possible future, his mind too filled with more immediate concerns, but now it suddenly looms inescapable and dark in front of him. 

What future does he has? Does any of them have? 

The temple is gone, in the hands of the new Empire, the ones who destroyed the Jedi. Oh he knows the official version, but he also knows that the Jedi would never betray the Republic. Perhaps that had been their greatest, their only, weakness. Chirrut supposes he should have been surprised the Guardians had been left alone for over a year after the Republic fell, that the Empire had not come for them sooner. But they were so remote, even the Jedi had rarely concerned themselves with Jedha, why would the Empire? 

But they had come and now the temple was barred to the Guardians. All of it was gone and none of them knew why? Perhaps he should ask Baze? He had been to NiJedha after the battle, he would know if any did. 

If the man ever did come back. 

Chirrut sighs deeply.  

He had often wondered how his first meeting with Baze Malbus would go back when he was a novice, even after the man left the question remained with him though the point had become moot. Now he had an answer. Not well. 

He has he knows only himself to blame, he often puts other off him. His penchant for making jokes makes him unpopular as often as does popular, this was true even when he was a child. The same for his recklessness and sharp wit. The training at the temple had not erased his characteristics, only harnessed them, channeled them into constructive purposes. But no, they aren't gone and even at 33 he often finds it impossible to curb his tongue or impulses when he should. 

But he needs Baze much as he hates to admit it, needs help. He has no idea how to get back to his room from here. He who completed all seven duans is now more helpless than a child. 

Slipping down so he sits on the ledge that is placed beneath the water's surface so that bathers can recline and he buries his face in his hands. It puts his nose and mouth dagerously close to water's surface, but in this moment he doesn't care if he drowns. Why should he, there seems to be no point at all, to anything. 

_How can the Force will this?_ _Will all of them homeless and fleeing?_ And the rest of the people in NiJedha, how are they dealing with the arrival of the Empire? Surely the Empire had not emptied the entire city?  

But most deeply Chirrut resent the loss of his sight, selfish though he knows that is. 

If he could only see, then he knows he could find a way to deal with the rest, but this helplessness is suffocating him. 

His faith has never been a strong one, his dedication to the Guardians and the Kyber Temple rooted more in his love of martial arts and the aid they gave to the people of Jedha, but now there is barely a flicker of it left in him. 

How could any Force will this if it was benign? What had he, had _a_ _nyone_ on Jedha, done to deserve this? 

Chirrut leans his head back against the cold stone of the floor, placing his arms along the edges of the pool and stares into his ever present darkness. 

The only sound audible is the faint lapping of water against the stone. It reaches half way up Chirrut's chest and he is suddenly acutely aware of the motion of the water against his skin, the minute currents accentuated a thousand fold in the darkness. The stone is cool and damp against his skin and he can feel several small cracks in it. The container for the soap is pressing against his lower left arm, the sensation isn't unplesant but it is noticeable. Very noticeable. 

It's remarkable how much his other senses is telling him, now that he can't see. 

A memory rises out of the depth of his mind, of one of the first times he attended lessons in martial arts at the temple. Two of the teachers, masters both, had decided to show the novices, some of them already getting cocky, how far they had to go. They had sparred blindfolded. 

Chirrut had been riveted. The grace and precision with which they had moved despite their lack of vision had been stunning, he had promised himself that one day he would be able to do that. 

A wry smile passes his lips. Despite his advancements he still couldn't do that but now he had to learn, somehow. 

Abruptly he sits up, causing the water to splash back and forth between the stone and his body, making sounds. 

Baze is right. He's blind, not helpless. If the masters could do such things without seeing, then he can learn too even if they aren't here to teach him. 

As for the why of it all? It doesn't matter, it never really mattered to him, but that has never stopped him. 

Bath first though. That was another thing Baze was right about, he could do with one. 

 

oOoOo 

 

Baze's heart hasn't stopped racing by the time he reaches his room. It is small, no larger than Chirrut's and just as sparsely furnished. 

He sinks down on the bed and stares at the closed door, feeling himself still shake. 

_What is he doing? Running away? From a blind man?_  

The absurdity of it makes him want to laugh.  

_When was the last time he ran from anyone?_  

He runs a hand over his face. 

And _why_? Because he's attractive? Chirrut is hardly the first attractive man he's seen in his life. Or touched. But when Chirrut had looked at him with those blind eyes, it had felt as if he saw straight into him the same way the Elders had. They hadn't agreed with what they had found there then, he isn't sure what Chirrut thinks of it now. 

It is no longer just questions or doubt he harbors as it was when he left a decade ago, in those years it has become certainty. The Force does not guide, it doesn't care. 

So neither does Baze. The galaxy does cater to the tender of heart, only those who looks out for themselves survive. That's the maxim he's been living by for years.  

Until now, until he saw a monk trapped in a panicking crowd, staggering like injured but still determidly protecting the small girl in his arms. It had been foolishness and yet he had intervened, grabbed the stumbling monk and pulled him and child away. 

Why? _Why_? Because the man was too stubborn to know when to cut his losses and look to himself, yet remained defiant? 

Baze still has no clear answer to that question. What about Chirrut Imwe, a man he cannot remember ever seeing in his life though he must have been among the acolytes when Baze left, was it that compelled him and still does? Some shred of compassion that still lurks in his heart? 

He shakes his head and gets off the bed. In any case he _has_ picked up a responsibility so he's not going to shirk it, he will see to it and to Chirrut for now. But the galaxy is a pitiless place for those who cannot fend for themselves, Chirrut has better learn that and quickly. Baze won't stay around forever to look after him. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an attempt at a story about how Chirrut lost his sight, but regained his faith and how he and Baze came to love each other so deeply.
> 
> I am a highly unreliable writer who is working on far more stories than she can technically handle right now - what can I say, Rogue One happened to me - but this is one I really want to do. So far I have only these two first chapters, but I'm working on it. Tag list might expand and the rating possibly go up, if it does I'll give warning and a way to skip sex for those who may not want to read it.
> 
> Comments and encouragements increases the chances of me getting this done. They can be offered here or on [tumblr](https://luminousfinn.tumblr.com)


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